The Date Experiment

"You did. You wore that tux. That's why we did it. Because you were in that wedding party and had to return it the next day."

"Well, I actually should have returned it that day. But I wanted to see you in that dress. I don't think I've ever seen anything as hot as the way you looked that night."

I smile and remember drinking beer out of champagne glasses, toasting each other every ten minutes, and dancing elegantly around the pool while everyone swam and splashed and teased.

"That was two months ago, Ben," I tell him. "How long have you...?"

"Ah ah, I'm not giving that secret away yet. You got your one," he interrupts and breathes deeply.

"I'm really wet," I say, noticing how cold I feel in all the spots he's not leaning against me or touching me.

"Me too."

We sit up and he peels off his shirt and holy Christ I get to see how much the working out has been doing for him. "Whoa, dude," I exclaim. He flushes and lets his bangs flop into his eyes.

"Want one of my shirts?" he asks all gallantly and stuff, standing up.

"Oh hell no, not after that!" I grin cheekily and begin to unbutton my top.

"Wait wait!" he sits again and reaches out a hand to stop me. He bites his lip and starts unbuttoning for me, slowly like he's relishing it. Like he's thought about this moment before. I realize he probably has. I sit and let him.

When he's done he peels the fabric off me, off my arms, away from my back, and flops it onto the hardwood floor. Then his warmth, his lips are on my shoulder and the freckles there, slow and gentle. His hands slip around my back and caress in these soft strokes. He knows my back, all those millions of massages while watching some movie or another. He knows the spots that make me melt, and he touches those now as he traces kisses around my shoulder to my throat.

He sits back again, eyes betraying an urgency his movements don't show. I move to take my bra off and he stops me again. I wait for him to do it but he doesn't.

"Not yet. I'm not ready for them yet," he tells me so seriously it makes me smile and he flashes a nervous grin back. "I know that sounds stupid." But I shake my head. I want him to kiss me again but I'm not sure how to start it. I try touching his face and it feels so warm. His eyes wince at something and he does it, he kisses me, his whole body and that beautiful new chest of his pressing against me, pushing me against the end of the sofa and the multitude of cushions there. He's touching me everywhere but my breasts, my hands learning the new shape of his back and shoulders and arms. The kissing is just so... urgent... so powerful. This is what it's like in the movies, and it's Ben that's doing it to me.

When he pulls away finally, he's shivering so hard his teeth chatter.

"Are you cold?" I worry, my voice huskier than I expected.

He shakes his head, hair swinging.

I reach behind me and unhitch my bra. This time he doesn't stop me. I slide it off my arms and he doesn't hide that he watches.

"Fuck they're perfect." His voice shakes so much when he says it, his hand quavering when it cups one breast. He kisses me again and he's making these little grunts this time, hand massaging and squeezing and stroking.

When he pulls away this time he suddenly shifts down, rests his damp head on my stomach and hugs me to him, panting. "Six years," he says, his voice very serious.

"What?" I ask, my head fuzzy.

"Six years. That's how long," he tells me and strokes his thumb on my belly. I feel his voice like a rumble, his heart beat so fast against my thigh.

"We were fifteen..." I breathe and tuck my fingers into his hair, pull it apart.

"It was summer camp. Remember Paolo?" I remember. Funny little kid with a faux-hawk and no chin, chest so skinny you could probably put your fingers around it and have the tips meet. I remember the crush I had on him. "He wanted to ask you out. It... bothered me. I told him not to."

I briefly lament all the nights spent at summer camp and afterwards, wondering if Paolo noticed my inexperienced flirtations, or cared. I remember telling Ben, begging him to get Paolo to ask me out.

"Are you upset?" he asks, thumb stroking faster.

"Maybe a little. I feel like I've been lied to," I tell him honestly and his thumb stops.

"Sorry," he says and there is real fear in his voice.

"I think it's okay. Just don't lie to me again. Okay?" I pinch his ear.

He props himself up and places such a tenderly passionate kiss on my belly that I have to blink.

"Do you want to go to the bed?" he asks now, his voice so rough it doesn't even sound like him.

"No, I kindof like it right here. We've been here so many times, it just feels natural," I muse.

He moves his hand down and pops the button on my jeans, kissing my stomach while he does it. He unzips and slides a warm hand across my lower belly, just over the top of my underwear, fingers digging in at the end in a desperate clutch.

"Get up," I tell him and he manages to push himself to stand with minimal knees colliding. I sit and unbutton his jeans and unzip while he watches, touching my hair. He pushes off his jeans. We look at each other and with a final blush at the awkwardness of this transition, he rolls off his boxers and exposes himself to me. I nod and appraise his cock for the first time, half hard and with this intriguing upwards bend that he told me about a year ago during one of our drunker moments together. I had demanded to see it then, managing to unbutton him even then and he had pushed me off and watched the movie angrily without saying anything to me again.

"Nice," I nod and tell him. He blushes again, reaches for the cuffs of my jeans. I arch my back and he tugs and they finally slide off, letting go of my damp skin grudgingly. I roll off my underwear (the ones with the rosebuds on them that I bought when I was with him, the ones that made him laugh because they were so girly). He chuckles now and reaches for one of my hands, laces his fingers through mine and just stands there for a moment.

Unable to resist that chest or those shoulders any longer, I tug on his hand and he falls gracelessly on top of me with a grunt. I laugh and he laughs and then we're kissing again.

He's licking and nibbling my throat when I suddenly say "Hey Ben, we're about to have sex." I say it like it's a revelation, but not a very big one. Like finding the last beer when you thought you were out.

"I know, Ella. Is that okay?" he murmurs into my throat.

I laugh and trace fingers across his shoulders. "Very okay."

He props himself up, shakes hair out of his eyes and rubs the heel of his hand against my cheek. He's still shivering uncontrollably.

He then reaches down and guides himself into the right spot, but doesn't enter me.

"I love you, Ella. Is that okay?" he asks, voice gruff and shaking.

I nod. "Very okay."

He kisses me as he enters me, groaning when he does it. I've never had a guy that made noises before, and given the way my body responds with electric tingles, I like it very much.

He's a little too urgent, a little too... thoughtless, with his movements so I roll him onto his back (also so I can look at his chest more).

I undulate my hips against him the way I like to do, the way I've told him I've done with other boyfriends before. He holds my hips and rocks me the way I've told him I like, without knowing he would one day get to experience it. And when I know I'm going to be close I speed up and rub against him quickly. I see his eyes watching me, in some kind of awe, and it makes it happen faster and better than before. I feel the spasming release and my body shakes. He sits and holds my arching back, pressing me against him and kissing me. I don't make much noise but my body quakes like never before and his arms feel so warm around me.

When the shaking stops, he breaks the kiss and shifts me so that I'm on my back now. I feel like liquid beneath him.

"I don't want to fuck this up, Ella," he whispers. "I want this to work so badly."

I manage to chuckle weakly and touch his face. He twists and kisses the palm of my hand and I actually find a tear travelling from the corner of my eye to my ear. Damnit, my nose runs whenever I cry. I sniff.

"Shut up and fuck me already, Ben," I laugh.

The curve of his cock feels extraordinarily amazing as he fucks me from this very standard of standard of positions and I decide I've severely underestimated the benefits of missionary. He's propped himself up, elbows locked, so he can look at me while does it. He moans so much and it makes me feel like I'm something really special. He told me he's a noisy lover, much to the chagrin of Mrs. Beasley next door. I just never thought I'd hear it myself. It's incredible.

"You feel so fucking good, Ella," he tells me. Oh yes, noisy and talkative. Once he talked his way right out of being allowed to finish, this one girl was so uncomfortable with it. She just got up, dressed and left. I totally don't get it. "Fuck you look so beautiful dear sweet fuck you're so amazing." I really like it and the way that cock of his curves into me is just about driving me mental. I never would have thought it possible with my easy-to-orgasm-but-only-once body, but I actually feel myself on the verge again. And I'm actually moaning... seriously wow...

And I can see in his face when he's close, scrunching up and so serious. I feel it just before it happens, and I know I'm going to come too. He cries out and I love his face when he does it. I release into a moan and clench against him. His orgasm is so long, that I lean up and bite his shoulder just to keep from crying out myself.

When it's finally and gloriously over, he lies against me and we lace fingers again.

"Jesus," he pants. "Jesus wow. Wow. I mean... Jesus." He kisses my breast clumsily. "Tell me we get to do that again. And again. And again."

"Hell yeah. I'm gonna dehydrate the hell out of you. Now that I know what you're capable of," I tell him and he laughs. "I wish I'd known before."

"I'm sorry for not telling you, Ella. I didn't want to chance it, you know?" I feel his eyelashes on my breast as he blinks.

"I guess I can understand that. I just feel so... stupid. I feel like I should have known."

"I'm rather glad that fifteen year old Ben didn't get to try this with fifteen year old Ella. That would have been..."

"Disastrous! Oh dear god no... ugh... horrible thought." I laugh heartily and it feels good. My skin feels less damp, more warm now. I'd like to get under covers with him but I still don't want to leave the sofa, our sofa, just yet.

"So you love me, hey?" I ask and run fingers through his hair.

"Yup. Cat's out of the bag," he agrees.

"What's that like?"

"Do I really have to say?" I feel him cringe.

"Don't make me put the cat back in bag," I threaten and pinch his ear again.

"What does that even mean? Alright fine. It really hurts, if you must know. Hurts like fucking hell. Hurt more yesterday, though. A lot more."

"Jesus, Ben. That doesn't sound good at all!" I'm horrified.

"It still hurts today because I'm terrified that it's going to stop. I'll wake up or you'll leave in the middle of the night. You'll decide this isn't what you want at all. You'll get scared of just how much I need this."

"Huh," I breathe.

"Huh what?"

"Huh that's weird. That's exactly how I'm feeling," I admit and squeeze his head against me.

"Really?" He sounds dumbfounded.

"Yeah. Tell me more of what it's like."

"It's like... I can't wait to do the things we used to do, and be allowed to touch you and kiss you when we do them. Oh yes and fuck you too." He kisses my breast again.

"Huh."

"Again?" His voice brightens.

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to... the hand holding. Is that weird?"

"Only if it's weird that I want to carry you into bedroom and lick you 'til you scream just for saying that," he laughs.

"That's not weird that's awesome!" I proclaim. "Do it do it do it!" I bounce and jostle him.

"In a minute," he says softly and he's propped himself up again, arm a little wobbly, and reaches around and strokes my face. "I love you, Ella Patterson." He kisses me then and doesn't make me say it back just yet.

But now I know I will.